


My Secret Brother

by ConvenientAlias



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Brotherhood, Chic is not so bad, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Long Lost/Secret Relatives, Protective Jughead Jones, but he is kind of shady
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-09
Updated: 2018-07-13
Packaged: 2019-06-07 18:20:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,614
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15225162
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ConvenientAlias/pseuds/ConvenientAlias
Summary: “So I think my long lost brother might actually be your brother too.”Jughead blinked. “Okay, I’m a little lost.”Or, the one where Alice tells Betty about Chic being FP's son right away, and Jughead gets a new and slightly shady brother.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Even though Chic ended up being a villain on the show, I couldn't help but feel no one gave him much of a chance. Team Chic, guys. Also long lost brothers actually being incorporated as family is a thing I very much like, and if there's anyone who's longing for a family and understands wanting somewhere to belong, it's Jughead.

Betty told Jughead she had news.

Betty, to be fair, always had news, especially recently, with all the Black Hood business going on. Heck, Jughead himself always had news lately—wrangling Serpents meant his hands were full too. So these days they had something of a routine for news exchange. They sat down on Jughead’s couch, each with a glass of ginger ale, and Jughead said, “Okay, shoot.”

“Okay. Remember how I was looking for my brother? Because of all the trouble with Polly and Mom, and, well, because it’s kind of weird that I have a brother out there that I don’t even know about, so I thought I’d look into it?”

“Well, since I was the one who took you to the Sisters of Quiet Mercy and found the records, that would be a yes,” Jughead said. Though it had been a few days since then, so he hadn’t really been thinking about it much.

“I confronted my mom about it last night, and at first she wouldn’t say anything about it because of Dad. But then later she came to my room and she said something…kind of weird…”

Betty smiled a little awkwardly.

“I think we’re beyond weird at this point. I got used to weird when we started investigating Jason Blossom.” Jughead leaned back. “Hit me with everything you’ve got.”

“So I think my long lost brother might actually be your brother too.”

Jughead blinked. “Okay, I’m a little lost.”

“Mom said that the reason she gave away the child, the real reason, is because he wasn’t Dad’s. She had a…thing…with your dad, and they weren’t really together, and Dad wouldn’t let her keep the baby because it wasn’t his. So he’s really a Jones baby. Which means he’s your half brother too.”

Jughead frowned. He took a swig of ginger ale. “My dad and your mom? Your mom hates my dad. She hates all Serpents.”

“Yeah, well, maybe this is the reason for all of that.” Betty shrugged. “I told you it was weird.”

“It is weird.”

“So, I still want to look for him, even if Mom won’t. He’s not just her son, he’s my brother. I was wondering if you thought we should enlist your dad.”

Jughead sighed.

It was crazy, to think he might have a brother. He had a sister, of course. Sometimes he forgot he even had her, when she was all the way out in Toledo and only wrote him a letter or called once in a great while. He might have called Jellybean a long lost sister, so maybe it wasn’t a stretch to have a long lost brother. But Jellybean and Mom had gotten lost all by themselves. They hadn’t wanted to have any part of Jughead and FP’s pathetic life. And this Charles, would he be pleased to know he had a brother and a father in a ragtag gang like the Serpents? A father who could barely keep his head out of the bottle, a brother who could barely keep his neck out of a fight?

“I’m…not sure we should tell him yet.”

Betty frowned. “Don’t you think he’d want to know?”

“I don’t know whether he’d want to know.” Jughead sighed. “He tries to be a good dad. You know he does. But it’s a lot of pressure on him, and I’m not sure how he’d react to having another son. He might not…like it.” Sometimes it seemed like he didn’t even like being Jughead’s dad. “And what if Charles doesn’t want him? I don’t think he’d take that well.”

“So what? Do you think we should leave it alone?”

Maybe. Jughead doubted he’d bring any lost relative good luck by appearing in their life. More likely he’d bring trouble with him, mess everything up. Only.

Only he hadn’t seen Jellybean in more than a year, and it sounded like Charles had been alone all his life and needed someone, and maybe he was like Jughead, lost and forsaken and willing to take any crumb a stranger dropped in his mouth. And then there was Betty looking at Jughead with those pleading eyes, and if he told her to drop it he knew she’d try, but she wouldn’t like it and chances were it wouldn’t stick.

“I think we should meet him,” he said. “If he’s our brother.” He grimaced. “That’s so weird. It’s like…does that make us siblings too? Jesus…”

Betty laughed and kissed him quickly. “I think we’re still good.”

“Ugh…it’s just a little disturbing, don’t you think?” But he couldn’t help grinning. “But yeah. We should meet him. Maybe we can get his opinion on where to go from there.”

* * *

 

The hotel was a little bit scary, but Jughead had been in worse dives. He’d spent much of his life living in a trailer park, months in a drive in and a school storage closet, and many recent weeks in the White Wyrm. Betty walked with an uncomfortable gait as they climbed the stairs, legs close together, but he put his arm in hers and whispered, “Relax. You’ve got this. If we look dumb, we look dumb together. As usual.” And she ever so slightly relaxed.

They knocked on the door and a voice called them in.

The boy sitting on the bed—boy, yes, according to the files he was already nineteen but he looked tiny, younger than Jughead’s sixteen. He looked very much like a Cooper, or rather, like Alice’s side of the family since he had no relation to Hal. Fair skin, blue eyes and blond blond hair. He could have been a male Betty, which made it very weird that he was also Jughead’s brother.

“Hey,” Betty said when the boy didn’t speak. “Um…Are you Charles Smith?”

He leveled a look at both of them. “Who’s asking?”

“My name’s Betty Cooper. This is Jughead Jones. I’m—”

“I know who you are. Betty Cooper.” The boy smiled sardonically. “One of the girls Mom didn’t throw out. Is it nice, living in paradise suburbia? You know, I went by your house once. Thought I’d see how the other half lived. I looked in your windows and thought about knocking on the door, but I didn’t, because I know where I’m not wanted.”

Betty swallowed. Jughead squeezed her hand in encouragement, and she continued. “I do want to know you. I never knew I had a brother until recently, and Mom…”

“ _Mom_ doesn’t want anything to do with me. She’s never tried to get in touch with me, and she threw me away in the first place. Don’t give me bullshit.” The boy crossed his legs. “She’s not here with you, is she?”

“I think she’s afraid to face you, because she knows giving you away was a mistake.”

“So now, after nineteen years, she’s changed her mind.”

“Well, at least she’s curious.”

The boy huffed. He raised his eyebrows at Jughead. “Who’s your backup?”

“I’m Jughead.” Jughead walked over to the bed and reached out his hand. “I’m your brother.”

The boy’s eyes widened. “I…I don’t have…a brother.”

“I’m not a Cooper. My dad didn’t know you were his. I only found out recently.Our family’s not much of a catch, but…pleased to meet you.”

The boy snorted. Hesitantly, he shook Jughead’s hand. “I guess some of my family’s a little more like me.”

“We’re like you too,” Betty said hastily. “Look, I know I look like a perfect girl and we look like a perfect family, but we’re not. We’re kind of a mess right now. I think we’d be happier if you came home.”

The boy jerked his hand away from Jughead. “Look, it’s great you came to find me and all, but I’m nobody’s solution.”

“We’re not asking…”

“I think you should leave.”

After a moment, Betty nodded. Jughead gave her a look. “Hey, we just got here.”

“Yeah, and now you should go. After all, you’re no catch. What are you doing here?” The boy pointed at the door. “I have a client in a minute. You can’t be here. Kind of would ruin the mood.” He smirked and shrugged.

“Wait, what do you…”

“It was nice to meet you, Charles,” Betty said, pulling Jughead towards the door. “Maybe…”

“It’s Chic,” the boy said. “Not Charles. But I guess you wouldn’t know that.”

As Betty closed the door, Jughead got just a glimpse of him shaking his head and opening a laptop. He stared at the door until Betty dragged him toward the stairs.

“I think our brother is a sex worker,” Jughead said.

“Jughead! Chic seems nice.”

“I didn’t say he doesn’t seem nice. He just also is probably a sex worker.” Jughead shook his head. “We shouldn’t tell Dad about him until we work something out. He’d freak. Probably start going on about how it’s his fault for failing Chic as a father.”

“Until we work something out,” Betty repeated. “So…you think we shouldn’t leave Chic alone? He asked us to.”

“Technically he just asked us to leave. Besides, when have we ever left anything alone?”

Betty laughed. “Yeah. I guess you’re right.”

* * *

 

Despite his words, Jughead had really intended to let the matter of Chic lie until he had the time to deal with it. He was working on a story about the Uktena with Toni, trying to get her to let him see her grandfather, one of the oldest members of the Serpents. It would be an important meeting, and deserved all his attention. But Betty, it seemed, couldn’t let a sleeping dog lie. The very next day he got a call from her.

“Hey, so, if I bring Chic over to your place do you know how to do stitches?”

“Yeah.” He’d stitched FP up more than once. “But. Why is that a question you are asking me right now?”

“Because I went over to Chic’s hostel and found some guy slicing him up. Just, get the first aid out, okay? I’m gonna bring him home but I don’t want to bring him there looking like this.”

“Looking like what? Is it bad?” Jughead clenched his cell phone. He’d brought his brother bad luck, just as he’d feared. Fuck…

“It’s bleeding but it’s not a major area. Just his arm. I have to go. Bye!”

She hung up before he could respond. Swearing, he got out the oft-used first aid kit. FP wasn’t home, thank God, though who knew what he was doing? Hopefully he wouldn’t come back until this emergency was dealt with. Meeting a son while he bled on your sofa would be a very Jones thing to do, but it still wouldn’t be a great first impression.

He paced back and forth until Betty arrived. Chic’s face was an image of agony—he wore pain much more poetically than any Jones would. Jughead brought him to the sofa and got a washcloth and some cleaning alcohol. It was the only kind of alcohol in the house currently, and it still made him nervous to uncap it and deal with the smell.

“It hurts,” Chic said when Jughead touched the washcloth to his wound.

Jughead said, “Life hurts. Grit your teeth and deal with it.”

“Jughead!” Betty was scandalized. But Chic did grit his teeth, and Jughead cleaned the wound. He examined it carefully too.

“It’s mostly clean. I’ve seen deeper. This was done with a switchblade?”

“I don’t know what kind of knives that psycho uses.”

“Still, a knife. I hope it was clean. But we’ve cleaned it out.” Jughead took out a sterilized needle and the medical thread. “You ready?”

Chic grinned painfully. “Like you said, life hurts. It’s just another scar.”

Yep. One fucked up boy. Jughead put the skin together and made the first stitch. Chic whimpered, but he held very still. Jughead said, “You have a lot of scars?”

“I should tell you about my clients some time.”

“Go ahead.” Anything to take his mind off this. Though Betty was grimacing.

“There’s one who likes to pretend he’s my dad. He likes spanking me, or hitting me with a belt. I guess he’s not a great dad, but he’s the closest thing I’ve ever had.”

Jughead laughed. “Yeah, if you ever meet our dad, he’s not gonna act like that. You’ll be lucky if he even pays that much attention to you.” That probably wasn’t a very reassuring thing to say. “He’s not violent,” he amended. “You’d probably like him okay.”

“Oh, I like my fake daddy too,” Chic said with a pained smile. “He gives me a large allowance.”

“Nice.” Jughead had only a couple stitches to go. Yes, this was one of the weirder conversations he’d had with a near stranger, but hey, whatever distracted Chic. “Gotta get that money.”

“A lot of my scars aren’t from clients,” Chic said. “Marcel’s given me a few. He’s the one who did this to me. Thanks for the stitches.”

“No problem.”

“I have scars too,” Betty said. “On my palms. Crescent shapes.”

“Because you press the nails in,” Chic whispered. He seemed entranced.

Jughead did the final stitch, tied the thread off. “There. You did a good job.” He patted Chic’s back. It was a brotherly thing to do, though it felt more like he was the older brother than the younger. Chic was just so small. Maybe that was Alice’s side of the family, or maybe he was just malnourished. “My dad always whines like a baby when I do it and I always keep on complaining, so I think we know who the tough one of the family is.” Actually it was probably Jellybean—he’d never seen her cry out of physical pain, only when their parents fighting upset her. But he hadn’t told Chic about Jellybean, and for some reason he didn’t want to. He didn’t analyze it too closely.

“Thanks,” Chic said again. “Usually I’d have to go to a clinic. Or to…” He cleared his throat. “Thanks.”

Despite how tough he’d been throughout the process, his eyes looked a little watery. Jughead said, “Jones men are shit at a lot of things, but first aid is something we can handle. I’m here anytime.” And he patted Chic’s back again.

“I’m taking you home,” Betty said.

Chic looked over to her. “What?”

“You can’t go back there, that guy will attack you again. It’s not safe. I’m taking you home for the night.”

“I don’t think your parents will like that,” Chic said. “A whore like me intruding on their family life at home.”

“Yeah, well, you’re my brother. So if they don’t like it they can suck it up.” Betty offered him a hand. After a moment he took it and rose.

“I’d let you stay here, but there’s not much space,” Jughead said. “Anyways our place is shit and I haven’t really told my dad about you yet. If you want to tell him yourself, you can come over and I’ll help you. But I’m not sure…”

“For now, it can be our secret,” Chic said. “You can be my secret brother.” He touched Jughead’s arm, oddly light. “Thank you.”

“You need to stop thanking me,” Jughead said, but he couldn’t help a smile. Maybe he’d brought something good into his brother’s life after all.


	2. Chapter 2

Jughead had expected Chic to go back to the hostel after a couple nights or get stuck couch surfing again, but Betty reported he’d been taken in and was now officially seen as a Cooper. Some families actually took care of each other. Well, good for him. It was probably better to be a Cooper than a Jones. Sometimes Jughead thought about marrying Betty and whether he would want to take her last name. He was an idiot that way.

What news he got from Chic he got in snippets as he and Betty worked on the article on the Uktena. Which ended up going all wrong. Toni was furious, and she was right to be—he’d misused her story and made it part of his own vendetta. His only excuse was that he’d been lost in his own worries and emotions.

“You shouldn’t have done it,” she said.

No. He still shouldn’t have.

An apology wasn’t good enough though, not to her or her grandfather. So he agreed to follow their lead with the protest on Pickens Day. They put a strip of tape over his mouth. They would tell the public they represented the silenced. Also, Toni muttered in his ear, it would ensure he didn’t try to take over the scene again.

He would have apologized again, but there was tape over his mouth.

Sweet Pea and Fangs were pumped. They raised their fists as they began the long walk to the celebration, and grinned at Jughead with their eyes if not their covered mouths. Toni reminded them to be quiet and solemn, and her grandfather shook his head. “We’re trying to make peace, and speak for our people,” he said. “Don’t go starting any fights.”

They all shook their heads. Jughead almost started a fight with Hiram Lodge nevertheless, but the grandfather stopped him. Which was definitely for the best.

In the milling crowd of the celebration, he bumped into Chic. Chic patted his shoulder. “I think you’re right,” he said. “After that article…it’s a travesty we’re celebrating. This should be mourning.”

“Well, the article wasn’t really my place.”

“It was still good writing,” Chic said.

“No, it really wasn’t my place. And this protest…Hiram Lodge is using it as a promotional tool. I can’t believe it.”

Chic’s smile smoothed over into an understanding frown. “Sometimes it feels like you can’t win. Let me get you some punch.”

Jughead reluctantly drank the punch. Chic told him it wasn’t his best day either. Hal was mad at him. Jughead snorted. “Mr. Cooper’s always mad about something. Him and Mrs. Cooper don’t like me much either. So you’re in good company.”

“I think it bothers Betty, though.”

“Hey, it’s not your fault.”

“It’s nice of you to say that.”

They finished the punch and Chic hurried off. He had to get back to Betty and Alice before they left. Well, Jughead had friends to rejoin too. After that failure they’d have to regroup.

The week was eventful. The Pickens statue’s head went missing, and Betty and Jughead’s search for it left little time to worry about Chic. Jughead enjoyed what updates he got. Sure, Betty was worried about Chic’s shady employment, but compared to everything else in Jughead’s life, Betty and Chic’s domestic troubles were small potatoes. Chic was, despite Hal’s disapproval, living happily ever after with the Coopers. It was more than any other Jones could hope for. It was more than Jughead had.

But the matter of the statue head was cleared up, and then it was the day of Veronica’s confirmation party. To be honest Jughead didn’t really understand what the big deal about that was (he wasn’t religious) but he did understand a room full of mobsters enough to be wary, and then dance music enough to swing Betty into a good mood. The mood continued when they returned to the trailer. FP was out. Jughead was beginning to accept that FP would always be out. At least this time it worked to their advantage.

The next day on the walk to school, Betty was oddly silent.

“Is something wrong?”

“Mm?”

“I mean, after last night, do you have regrets?”

“No! No. That was lovely. Um…there is something very wrong.”

 Chic had murdered a person.

Jughead wanted to be more shocked by this news than he was. He ended up sitting down on a piece of sidewalk and staring into space as it was, listening to Betty describe how they had hid the body, but to be honest? Compared to the week, the month, the year he’d been having, it didn’t register as all that awful. Their brother had killed a man. But it was probably self defense, so. Get over it.

“I’m sorry you had to go through that,” he said when Betty finished telling the story. “God, that sounds like a nightmare.” He’d been through some tough shit lately, but he hadn’t had to hide a body at least.

“And now Chic and Mom are pretending like everything’s fine, and it’s just completely insane.”

“Well, that’s how your family deals with things, isn’t it? Pretending nothing’s wrong until you can’t ignore things anymore,” Jughead said. “Sounds like Chic’s adapting pretty well.”

“He’s creeping me out.”

Which was why, after they disposed of a car and got FP to help them more thoroughly destroy the body (which was awkward, because neither they nor Alice had told him Chic was his son yet), Betty politely asked Jughead if he and Chic could “have a talk.”

“I just think maybe you could get through to him, see if he’s actually okay about all this. Because clearly I’m getting nowhere. He just wants to play happy families, and it’s…” Betty sighed. “Please, can you just talk to him?”

“Of course. It’s been a while since we’ve talked anyways.”

He went up to Chic’s room. It used to be Polly’s, which meant it was the first time Jughead had been in it. Chic had kept a lot of the soft pastels, hadn’t transformed it into a boy’s room or a trashy Jones sort of room. Seemed to like the comforting Cooper atmosphere of it. Jughead could sympathize with that.

“Betty wants me to talk with you,” he said.

Chic closed the door behind them. “Yeah. This has been hard on her.”

“It’s been hard on all of us. I mean, hiding a dead body…”

“I know I killed that man in Alice’s defense. That’s not bothering me.” Chic smiled, but his eyes still held a weight of blue guilt. “But when I think about how I’ve dragged you and Betty and Alice and _Dad_ into all this, and how you could get in trouble as easily as me…”

Jughead snorted. “Yeah, don’t worry too much about that. We’re all pretty used to trouble. Ever since Jason Blossom was murdered last year, it just seems to find us.”

“Yeah, I heard you investigated that,” Chic said. “No one’s ever given me the details.”

Jughead spun him the story as he typed it out, only a little briefer. The story of slowly eliminating suspect after suspect, hunting down Polly and then having to protect her from a mob, his dad coming under suspicion and briefly going to jail, and finally finding the real killer though they never confronted him. He finished with the burning of Thornhill and the fact that his dad had been recently released.

“Wow. That’s quite a story.”

“Yeah. Basically Betty and I were the ones who made Clifford Blossom…not face justice I guess, but at least face what he did. I did it for my dad and because I wanted to get my mind off certain things—” He hadn’t mentioned the fact that for a while there he’d been homeless “—but Betty did it because she genuinely wanted to catch the killer. She has this thirst for justice. It’s incredible.” He shook his head. “Your sister, man.”

“And you two are dating?”

Jughead nodded. “I’m sorry. Did we ever…”

“No, I picked up on it. I don’t mind.” Chic shrugged. “I mean, it’s a little weird, but in another way it’s nice. You don’t try to pull me apart. You feel like family. If you two got married, I’d have you as a brother-in-law and a brother both.”

Jughead laughed. “Well, don’t get too ahead of yourself. Who knows if I’ll even live that long.”

“Why wouldn’t you?” Chic looked worried.

“You know. Riverdale business. Since I became a Serpent, things have gotten rougher. Hiram Lodge’s breathing down the back of my neck. He’ll probably order my assassination. Riverdale might look like a nice town, but for people like you and me it’s poison.” Jughead stood. “I need to get back to the White Wyrm. There’s a meeting tonight. But I’m glad we could talk.”

* * *

 

It was hard to make time for Chic, which Jughead constantly regretted. Betty was getting more and more on edge. She insisted Chic behaving like everything was normal was a sign that he was a psycho, even though she was doing the exact same thing. Jughead was patient, but he could tell she was frustrated that he didn’t listen to her. Her complaints tapered off, but they were still there in her eyes. She wanted Chic to be a mystery she could solve. Jughead could have told her that everyone had secrets and issues. But frankly, he didn’t want to get into a fight with her, because he was already engaged in a land feud with Hiram Lodge that was taking up enough of his time and energy. Literally he was chaining himself to buildings and it still wasn’t working. He had a lot on his plate.

Then Betty called him up and informed him that there were two drug dealers at her house giving Chic and her mother a hard time. Armed. And asking for money.

He should have been paying more attention.

He called the Serpents together, told them someone was threatening his girlfriend’s family. Didn’t get into the Chic genetics details, those were too complicated. Just rallied them, told them there was someone they could fight. Didn’t take more than that to get them rearing to go. They’d been looking for someone they could fight, someone Jughead would actually let them fight, for ages.

Though, in the end, no violence was necessary. The dealers fled. Jughead said, “Sorry about your door, Mrs. Cooper.”

Alice, on the verge of collapse, said, “No, it’s fine. Thank you. I…thank you. After all the bad things I’ve said about the Serpents.”

It was a heartfelt moment. That was rather broken when Alice told Chic she was kicking him out. Chic didn’t even fight it. He walked upstairs at a slow, steady pace. Jughead ran after him.

“You could talk her out of it,” he said in the bedroom.

“Betty doesn’t like me here.”

Hard to argue with that when it was clearly true. Still. “I can talk to her. We could make them understand.”

“I knew it wouldn’t be forever. There’s nowhere someone like me can stay. Especially not somewhere like here, warm and soft.” Chic smiled sadly at Jughead. “Is that a Jones thing?”

Jughead swallowed. “Yeah. That’s a Jones thing.” He was lucky he’d even had the trailer for this long, and he always wondered how long it would be before his dad relapsed or something went terribly wrong and forced him to move out. “You should come home with me.”

“Your dad doesn’t know about me yet.”

“He knows we’re friends.”

“He knows I killed that man. He won’t want me in his house.”

“It’s as much my house as his. If I say you can stay, you can stay. Come on.” Jughead grabbed Chic’s shoulders. “Please. I can’t give you much, even as your brother. We’ve failed you so far. But I can give you this.”

Chic stared at him. Then he pulled Jughead into a hug. Jughead noticed that there were actual muscles in those thin little arms. He still felt more like a baby brother than a big one, but there was some strength. Although it was less present in his voice, which trembled when he said, “Thank you.”

“No problem. I’m here for you.” Jughead stroked Chic’s back. “And you know Betty and Alice will get over this. It wasn’t your fault.”

“I hope so.”

Betty was not on board with this plan. “Jughead, are you crazy? We just got him out of my house and you want to take him into yours?”

“I’m standing right here,” Chic called out.

“Yeah, well, fuck you,” Betty said. “Now you’re manipulating Jughead? As if my family isn’t enough!”

“Jughead’s my brother. I have a right to be with him if I want,” Chic said. He crossed his arms. “Just because you Coopers don’t want me doesn’t mean no one does.”

“Betty, I’m trying to be understanding because I know you’re having a rough time, but taking your stress out on Chic is not cool,” Jughead said. “We’re leaving. If you want to talk about this reasonably later, you have my number.”

FP wasn’t entirely on board with the plan either. Chic didn’t want to announce that he was a Jones just yet, so Jughead was left to do the explaining. He said that Chic was a friend. He said that it was better to keep an eye on him than not. He mentioned the drug dealers and said he wanted to keep Chic safe.

FP eyed him. Finally he said, “Serpents don’t get involved with drugs. You stay in my house, you stay clean. Understood?”

“Yes, sir,” Chic said obediently. When FP left the room he said to Jughead, “He cares about drugs more than murder?”

“Serpent code of law. It has specific limitations.”

Chic touched the serpent embroidered on the back of Jughead’s jacket. “The Serpents saved me today.”

“We’re pretty cool people.”

“I’m grateful. Do you think I could…maybe hang with you guys?”

Jughead bit his lip. He liked Chic. Loved Chic, in fact—how could he not love a brother who felt so much like himself? But Betty was always giving warnings about him being shady, and the Serpents had so much trouble on their plates already.

Then again, if there was anyone who could handle shady it was the Serpents.

“Sure. I’ll take you to the White Wyrm tonight,” he said. He slapped Chic on the back. “For now, let’s unpack your stuff. We want to get you settled if this is your new home. Of course it’s not much…” He shrugged awkwardly. Wanted to welcome Chic as family but knew the trailer wasn’t exactly welcoming.

“It’s enough,” Chic said. “I appreciate what you do for me. You’re a good brother, Jughead.”

And hearing something like that made him feel like everything—not just the Chic business but maybe even the feud with Hiram, maybe even the rough patches with Betty and his dad— _everything_ , might just be all right.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments would be much appreciated. I've already written the last chapter, and it will be up soon, but for a couple days I'm going to let this sit.  
> Come talk to me about Chic and/or Jughead on tumblr at convenientalias :)


	3. Chapter 3

Optimism was a fool’s game, yet Jughead kept it up. He kept it up for weeks through the rehearsal for _Carrie_ the musical, despite suspicious letters and incidents. It could only be broken by the discovery of a body. Midge Klump was dead.

Betty, for some reason, thought it had to be Chic. “Well come on. He did spend time with the Sisters of Quiet Mercy, and so did Svenson. They could easily have known each other. And we know the Black Hood had connections to Svenson.”

“Yeah, but Chic is tiny. Tiny,” Jughead said, holding his hands close together to emphasize just how tiny Chic was. “Miniscule. Archie didn’t say his dad was shot by a shrimp. And I feel like he would have remembered.”

“Traumatic memories aren’t always clear. And Archie identified Svenson as the Black Hood once, so clearly he’s not entirely reliable.”

“You’re just looking for reasons to accuse Chic because for some reason you don’t like him.”

“And you’re just looking for reasons to protect him. Since when have you been scared to investigate?”

She’d always known how to appeal to Jughead’s pride. Fine then. If Chic was innocent, the investigation would only prove it. Jughead wasn’t scared of anything.

They got the file. Jughead was ready to compare dates, even ready to argue against them. Chic wasn’t a killer—well fine, he was a killer but he was no Black Hood. Jughead knew him well enough to say that. But when they opened up the file he had to freeze. Because that boy, the boy in the pictures, was not Chic.

“You’re sure this is Charles Smith?” he heard Betty say in the background.

“Yes, I’m sure. He was here for quite a while. I should say I knew him.”

Betty dragged Jughead out. “An imposter. I knew it! I knew something was wrong with him.”

“Look, I’m sure there’s an explanation. Maybe…” He dyed his hair and got contacts and plastic surgery? The Sisters of Quiet Mercy happened to have switched out photos and were lying to them for no reason?

“That monster is not my brother and he’s not Mom’s son. And I’m going to tell her about it.”

Jughead followed silently. If it was true, he wasn’t Jughead’s brother either.

What did that mean?

Chic just happened to be at the Cooper house when they arrived. Jughead’s muscles tightened. God. It would have been so much better if Chic could just have stayed home at the trailer for just a little while, until he could get Betty to calm down, until they could work some of this out. As they walked in, Chic smiled at Jughead, but the smile slowly faded as their eyes met. This was going to be a mess.

Alice, who was in the kitchen, asked, “Is something wrong, Betty?”

Betty flourished the file. “Chic’s a fake. I told you all, I warned you, he’s a fake.”

“What’s this all about?”

“I have proof that he is not a Cooper and not your son. And not Jughead’s brother.”

“She doesn’t like me,” Chic said, coming around to stand next to Alice as if the woman who had kicked him out only a couple weeks ago would now protect him. He looked at Jughead angrily, as if this was somehow Jughead’s fault. “Can’t you see she’d find any reason to attack me?”

Jughead said, “Chic, this doesn’t look good.”

Chic scowled. He flipped open the file lying in front of him and Alice. Both their eyes widened at the sight of the picture.

Alice backed a step away. “Chic?” Her voice caught a little.

Chic looked to Jughead. Jughead only raised an eyebrow. “We have some questions.”

“This is a mistake,” Chic whispered. His voice was so soft and breathy and pitiful, and it made Jughead think of sitting him down on the trailer couch all those weeks ago, threading a needle through his arm while he sat so still, such a good patient, such a good boy. Only wanting help. Only wanting love.

“I’m sure you have an explanation,” he said. “So let’s hear it.”

“I’m not so sure you have an explanation,” Betty said. “But I’m still curious.”

He looked down at the file. Jughead was intent on his face, but Betty must have been looking at his hand. She was the one to lunge in time, to stop him from stabbing Alice. Jughead cried out, surprised, and Alice shrieked, but Betty was the one to hit him over the head. He toppled over easily, a puppet with the strings cut.

“Chic,” Jughead said. He hurried over and knelt. Felt the wound on Chic’s forehead. It was bleeding, but head wounds always bled too much. His pulse was steady. “Get the first aid.”

“Yeah, I’ll get it for my mom. Who he was trying to stab—”

“My brother is hurt. Can you get me a first aid kit?”

“He’s not your brother.” But Betty was already going for it. “I’ll take care of my mom first. Then, we can both take care of Chic. Or whatever his name really is.”

Jughead didn’t like the way she said “take care”.

* * *

 

“Tell us who you are.”

Chic groaned. He’d only just surfaced now, but Betty refused to wait. Jughead hung back next to Alice, arms crossed. Chic looked at him, right past Betty. “Jughead, help me.”

Betty leaned down, blocking his view. “You’re not going to manipulate him again. Tell us who you are.”

“She hurt me. She’s going to hurt me. Jughead you have to help!” Chic’s panic sounded real. Jughead shifted his weight from one foot to the other. He had to trust Betty. Chic was a liar and he’d tried to hurt Alice. It was not Jughead’s place to take his side.

“Fine, don’t tell me who you are. But you knew the real Charles Smith,” Betty said. “So you’re going to tell us what happened to him.”

Chic wet his lips. “I can’t help you find him,” he whispered. “He’s dead.”

Betty hit him in the face. Jughead pulled her off. He only realized he had stepped forward when the deed was already done. Chic was grinning. “We used to live together in that room. Two thirty-six. We were in love.” He tilted his head. “But you know the lifestyle we had going. Charles liked to do jingle jangle, and I could never stop him. He was just so depressed because nobody wanted him. Then one day I convinced him to go visit his family, see if maybe they might want him after all. At least make things…amicable.” He seemed smug about using that word.

“He never came to me,” Alice said.

“He came. And you told him you didn’t want to talk to him and slammed the door in his face. I told him you probably thought he was a salesman, but he didn’t listen. He went on a bender, did some jingle jangle. I couldn’t stop him. He OD’d on jingle jangle that night. It wasn’t so long ago, so…” He shrugged. “I stayed in the room. It reminds me of him.”

Alice had backed up all the way to the basement door. “No. No.”

“There’s your truth,” Chic said to Betty. “Is it sweet?”

“I killed him.”Alice started up the stairs, stumbling as she went. “Oh my God. I killed him.”

Betty was frozen. Then she ran after her mom. Jughead knew he should follow, but instead he stayed.

Chic giggled. “Your brother is dead, Jughead Jones.” He leaned back in his chair. “I’m sorry.”

Jughead rubbed his eyes. “Well, I never knew him.”

“I did, though. He was a good guy. We were always fighting, but he was a good guy,” Chic said. “He deserved a nice brother and a nice sister and a nice house. All of it. But we don’t get what we deserve.”

Jughead sat on the floor. “No. We don’t.”

Awkwardly, he patted Chic’s foot. Charles Smith. Apparently Jughead had never met him, but he’d meant something to Chic. And despite everything, Jughead couldn’t help feeling bad for Chic when Chic looked at him with that pretty, pathetic little face.

“You understand it, don’t you?” Chic said.

“What?”

“You understand why I did it?”

“Yeah. I mean, it’s pretty obvious.” Jughead shrugged. “You wanted a family.”

“Yeah.” A moment of silence. “Charles was the first family I really had, and we made do. But you guys were so much better. That moment when I realized I could have you…I didn’t really think about it. Charles couldn’t have you anyways. Charles is dead. So there was nothing wrong with it.” He laughed a little, high pitched. “Right?”

“No. Nothing wrong with wanting a family.”

He knew because he wanted one too. It was all he ever wanted. When he was a kid, he was constantly trying to sew his own family back together like a bleeding wound, make his mother and father love each other and stop fighting, protect Jellybean, get his mom to remember to make Jellybean lunch and dinner, get his dad to stop drinking long enough to have a family movie night, sign the permission slips his parents forgot to sign so Jellybean could go on field trips…He knew what a proper family was like. He’d seen Archie and his parents. He’d watche movies where parents took care of kids and didn’t fight with each other and actually got along. Everyone wanted that Hollywood suburbia lifestyle. Everyone wanted to be the Coopers.

And he knew that dating and supporting Betty, joining the Serpents, trying to be there for Chic—it was all selfish. It was all as pitiful as Chic’s ploy. He was still looking for a family; he just wasn’t willing to go quite that far. But given the chance he wasn’t sure he would have done anything different.

“You understand me,” Chic murmured, still a little hysterical. “You understand me.”

He didn’t ask Jughead to let him explain any further. He didn’t ask Jughead to let him go.

Maybe that was why Jughead did.

He carried a knife with him when he wasn’t in school. It sliced easily through the duct tape keeping Chic in the chair. “There’s a back door,” Jughead said.

“I know,” Chic said. “It’s my house.” He laughed, breathless. “What are you going to do, Jughead? Hide me out in your trailer again.”

They slipped into the street. Jughead put his arm around Chic, half to keep him close and hidden, half to feel that he was still there, still okay. “Betty’s out for blood. I don’t think you should stay in Riverdale.”

“Yeah. She’s a force.”

“I’ll take you to the bus station,” Jughead said. “Do you have somewhere to go?”

Chic shrugged. “There’s always somewhere.”

“Call me when you get there. I want to know that you’re okay.”

* * *

 

But Chic didn’t call.

Betty was mad at Jughead for freeing Chic, but she also seemed oddly relieved. They didn’t speak about the matter again. Pretended to let it drop. Jughead tried to forget about it, but the loss was still there in his chest. He’d had a brother. If Chic wasn’t a brother by blood, he was still a Jones in other ways, still a forsaken son of a bitch. Maybe the fact that he’d been exiled made him even more so.

He didn’t call. Maybe Betty was right and Jughead had let himself be manipulated. He didn’t care. He’d loved Chic. Who knew what the Coopers would have done to him if he hadn’t let him go? It had been a night of madness.

He waited. He tried to forget about it. He answered the phone every time it rang a little too eagerly. And Chic didn’t call, and Jughead worried.

But he had other things to worry about. Other things to deal with. And he dealt with them until they landed him in a hospital.

He was in the hospital for a couple days even after he woke up. Wondering what to do now. The Serpents were disbanded. Hiram had won. FP wanted to move to Toledo again, but Jughead wasn’t sure he even wanted to see his mom and Jellybean after the past few months. He didn’t want to deal with family. He didn’t want to deal with disappointment.

On the day before he was discharged from the hospital, he got a visitor claiming to be a cousin. Blood relatives were allowed in to visit.

Of course, it wasn’t his cousin. He didn’t have any cousins that gave a shit about him.

It was his brother.

“Chic,” he said. He could barely sit up in the bed still. “Is that really you?”

“Yeah,” Chic said. “And my name’s really Chic, too. That wasn’t a lie.”

Jughead snorted. “Come on, man. Betty was the one obsessed with calling you a liar.” He held out his arms. “Give your crazy little brother a hug.”

Chic hugged carefully, as if he was cradling an already cracked egg. This was good because Jughead’s body was currently more than cracked.

“I heard you got hurt in the newspaper. They had an article about the riots, and your name was listed under the casualties. I don’t like to see them calling you a casualty.” Chic’s face darkened. “They didn’t seem very sympathetic.”

“Well, Hiram Lodge owns the Register, and Hiram Lodge doesn’t like me.”

“Did he do this to you?”

“I did it to myself,” Jughead said. “Made a stupid bargain.” He shrugged painfully. “I probably still have only half as many scars as you.”

“People don’t break their own ribs,” Chic said softly. “People don’t blacken their own eyes or…” His gaze danced over to Jughead’s arm. “They did something to your tattoo.”

“It doesn’t matter. You’re not involved in this. Anyways it’s over.”

Chic caressed the top of Jughead’s head. “I don’t like seeing my brother hurt.”

Hearing those words hurt more than any of the physical injuries Jughead had. “Why didn’t you call me? I wanted to hear from you.”

“I thought you didn’t need my shit to deal with. I wanted to stay away so there would be less trouble. I should have stayed and protected you.”

“Trust me. You couldn’t have saved me from this.”

“I’m moving back to Riverdale.” Chic straightened. “I thought I’d be fine drifting away, like I always am, but I wasn’t. I want to stay here. With my family.”

“Betty’s still out for your blood.”

“Betty Cooper’s father is the Black Hood. I think she has bigger problems.” Chic tilted his head. “Let me stay. You could use someone on your side.”

Jughead sighed. “Fair warning, Dad and I might be moving to Toledo to join Mom and my sister.”

Chic’s eyes widened. This seemed to be the first part of the conversation to jolt him. “You have a sister? I didn’t know that.”

“Yeah, well, she’s a preteen and no competition so don’t get any ideas,” Jughead joked. “But I don’t want to move to Toledo. Yeah. Stay. Not sure you should stay in the trailer, but…stay.”

He didn’t know what battle he’d have to fight next, but he could already feel it coming. And Chic was right. He could use someone by his side.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, that's it for this fic. Anyone have any thoughts about the fic, the possibilities of a Jughead-Chic bromance, or Chic in general? I'd love to hear from you in the comments, or come talk to me on tumblr at convenientalias.


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